


Cure

by AkiraCassidy



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Consensual Non-Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Growing Up, Humiliation, M/M, Top Eric Cartman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraCassidy/pseuds/AkiraCassidy
Summary: Kyle was diagnosed as a sex addict when he was in elementary school. Now a few years later, the urge has returned. He gets unexpected help from Cartman.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Kudos: 31





	Cure

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Cura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748969) by [AkiraCassidy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraCassidy/pseuds/AkiraCassidy)



> Hello! Please, follow me on Twitter. @CassidyAkira

Polly

Broflovski walks quickly to the men's room, today Barbara is wearing a blouse with a wide neckline. He can see her voluptuous, soft breasts perfectly, her blonde hair falling provocatively over them and highlighting her slender figure. After being diagnosed along with Kenny and Butters as sex addicts in primary schools. Kyle tried to stay away from anything related to beautiful women and erotic themes, that was his way of dealing with it. 

In contrast, Kenneth and Leopold had cultivated themselves in the art of seduction and were getting quite a few women. One with the aura of a mysterious bad boy and the other a tender and innocent role, they had started their sex life many years ago.

Kyle locks himself in one of the cubicles and pulls down his trousers, taking a seat on the toilet seat. It's at least 20 minutes until his next class, and he must get off that throbbing piece of meat in the middle of his legs. He takes off his jacket leaving it on the bathroom tank and puts his hat in his mouth avoiding making any sound that would give away what he is doing. He tentatively takes his penis and begins to touch it as he does quite often now.

Imagining Barbara's beautiful breasts as he closes his eyes, and the movement of his hand gets faster. He is so hot. The bubbling sensation builds in his belly and has him biting down harder on the garment between his lips as his member trembles on the verge of getting that longed for release.

—So, I said, Butters I know you have a problem, but could you stop texting your girlfriend in the middle of the game. This shit is important. —That voice makes Kyle stop his work.

—But we won Cartman, even with Butters using his stupid phone. —The red-haired man tries to regulate his breathing so as not to be overheard by the new occupants of the bathroom.

—I know Clyde, but if Butters had been 100 percent with us, the final score might have been different. The green-eyed man shrugs his feet as he hears footsteps approaching the cubicle next to his.

—Token are you really going to shit now? We've got a meeting with the fucking principal about the team's funding.

—Let Token take a shit Stan, let him enjoy the fact that he can use the same bathroom as the white boys. —Kyle looks at his watch, those guys had to go now, so he could finish jerking off, so he could go to his classroom.

—Well, since Token's going to take a shit, let's go over what we're going to tell the principal…

—Now I'm really fucked. —Broflovski thinks, when he hears Cartman's voice start to speak, using that tone of his. The one he used to use when talking to adults. Or when he wants to get something done, the room falls silent and only Eric's voice can be heard saying why the football team needed more money. The redhead tries to ignore what's going on around him and continues where he left off.

—We've made it to the state football finals, and we don't have the team we need. One of our best halfbacks Felipe doesn't have a proper helmet, so we must rotate him in with other guys, so he can play…

Kyle closes his eyes trying to think about Barbara again.

—Plus, Stan the pitcher doesn't have gloves that allow him to get a better grip on the ball…

Eric's voice drifts into his ears, stopping him from thinking about Bebe's breasts.

—The balls are older than Bart Brady, the cop…

The image of the officer pops into Kyle's mind, making him jump in shock.

—That's why we need about $10,000 for new uniforms and new furniture…

Kyle can imagine Cartman's face as he said that, that fat fucking' ex-fatso sure didn't need that much, the uniforms were fine. Kyle thinks, remembering yesterday's game. The stocky, but toned body of the brown-haired, sweaty from exertion, the way those big hands gripped the ball and the way his lips pressed together as he ran. 

Kyle gasped softly as his hand became stained with the whitish fluid. He takes some paper and wipes his hands, still panting he adjusts his clothes and exits the cubicle to find his teammates.

—Token, you're finished shitting… —Eric is leaning against the door, looking at some sheets of paper—. It's just Kyle.

Downplaying the marshal's importance, the Jew looks at Cartman in annoyance; he had masturbated thinking about him. As much as he hated him, he knew that his illness made him crave sex, but. Maybe later he would talk to the psychologist because now he thought he might be a homosexual.

No, he wasn't homosexual, he liked women, maybe he was just bi curious, or it was just because of his condition. He walks with the questioning gaze of the whole football team on him, that short stretch to the toilet to clean his hands. It looks like death row.

—I didn't know Kyle peed sitting down like the women. —Eric said, looking at the Jew, and everyone in the room started laughing. Or did you just get some sand out of your vagina?

Broflovski grits his teeth in annoyance. Rubbing his hands harder. He can see the mocking faces in the mirror.

—Don't make fun of Kyle, Cartman. Remember he was your friend. —Craig's nasal voice makes the red—haired man look to one of the corners of the bathroom.

—Please. Kyle was never my friend; he was friends with poor Kenny, and he was Stan's boyfriend.

—God no, he wasn't my friend, he was just a guy who hung out with us, besides don't call me a poor, fat ass. 

—I don't like guys; Kyle wasn't my boyfriend. He was just Butters' friend. —Stan looks up from his phone and immediately goes back to typing.

—No, bro. I'm not friends with Kyle, —Stoch puts down his phone and shoves Marsh. All the other guys look at each other and then burst out laughing.

—Fuck you guys, I've never been friends with idiots like you. —Kyle goes to the door; Eric looks at him and gives him a small smile. It's been a long time since he's seen Cartman this close; the red-haired man doesn't return the greeting and walks out slamming the door.

Since he had been in rehab for a few months for his problem, when he returned to school the boys had excluded him and the girls wouldn't talk to him. It was a long time before some of them started talking to him, Jimmy, Tweek and Scott were the ones he now called friends. He still saw Kenny and Butters around the junkie meetings, but they wouldn't speak to him.

As the doorbell rang, he could finally walk home hearing Tweek complain about the girls hitting on Craig.

—Those bitches shouldn't get their paws on me Craig, I'll kill them.

—Cool down Tweek, Craig loves you; you don't need to kill anyone. —Broflovski is trying to reassure him.

—You think so?

—Sure Tweek, I sent you the document by WhatsApp in the afternoon, check it and send it back to me to send it to Garrison. 

—I don't know how that guy is still teaching.

—I don't either. —Kyle waves goodbye to the nervous blond with a wave and enters the house. At the bottom of the stairs his mother was carrying a tray with lemon water and some dried fruit.

—Honey guess who's here to see you. —Kyle looks at the woman in astonishment, he only had three friends and none of them came home unannounced.

— Who? —He asks suspiciously.

—Eric Cartman, he's in your room talking with Ike.

—Cartman?

—Yes Buby, Eric, I'm so happy you got your old friends back. The red-haired man runs up the stairs and finds Cartman writing something on a piece of paper for his little brother.

—It's already got my signature on it; you just need to go with your mum to see the coach and you can start tomorrow.

—You're awesome Eric, thanks. —Ike runs out, waving the paper until he finds his mum in front of the door—. Mom, Eric accepted me on the football team. If we go, see the coach now we can start tomorrow.

The boy grabs his mother's arm and pushes her out, the woman barely manages to set the tray on a bureau in the doorway. She is dragged out by the youngest of her children.

—Hurry up, Mom! —Yells the little Canadian.

—What are you doing here? —questions the red—haired boy, still standing in the doorway. 

—I just came to apologise for my behaviour in the bathroom. —Kyle looks at him with some doubt. It's Eric Cartman, he can't trust anything that comes out of his mouth.

—What did you really come here for? —Kyle insists.

—I guess I can't lie to you, not to you. —Eric gets up from his chair and walks over to Kyle—. I was wondering what you were doing in the bathroom. I mean, you didn't poop because we didn't hear the sound of the toilet being flushed.

Kyle tenses up and looks wide-eyed at Eric.

—Besides, the gossipy Butters and Kenny told me you resort to masturbation instead of actual sex. —Cartman starts walking around Kyle. Like a predator he threatens his prey. He puts his hand on the wooden door, closing it behind Broflovski —. You know...

Eric continues talking, grabbing the red—haired man by the shoulders. Cartman is much taller and stockier than Kyle. The quarterback of the football team. The promise of tomorrow, a prodigy player. His fingers tapping the surface of the red man's clothing, delicately, rhythmically. As if trying to hypnotise Broflovski with that sound.

—… The director would go berserk if he found out that sex addict Kyle was masturbating in the toilets. —His hands go down, caressing Broflovski's slender arms, up to his shoulders again. Delighting in the way his fingers can turn smoothly over the smooth limb—. I'd sure as hell kick you out, report you to the authorities. I can see you going around the neighborhood. “Hi, I'm Kyle, and I'm a sex offender.”

—What do you want? —Kyle knows he's screwed, Cartman's got it in the palm of his hand.

—Undress

—What? What?

— Are you deaf or what? I said take your clothes off.

—I'm not doing it.

—Kyle, think about your situation, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.

—I don't want to, if you try to touch me, I'll report you.

—You? Me? Kyle… Kyle… Kyle… Kyle… Think things through. —Cartman grabs the green-eyed man by the waist and runs his hands up his chest, opening the buttons of his coat—. I could rape you right here and now, and if you report me, I'd say you're doing that because I didn't want to fuck you anymore. Who do you think they'd believe? A rehabbing sadist like you or me, a model student?

Cartman was right, as much as it pains him to admit it, he's screwed. Being diagnosed as a sex addict has scarred him for life. Kyle steps forward out of the bigger guy's grip, takes off his jacket which is already open. Without looking at the man he drops his trousers and removes his shirt leaving everything on the floor.

—Just make it quick, my mother, she'll come if she hears any noise.

—Your mother is on her way to school now, she'll be about an hour maybe more. —Kyle sits on the bed and starts to take off his socks.

—Kyle sits down on the bed and starts to take off his socks. —Eric walks over to the desk where he's left his backpack and pulls out a small jar of Vaseline. 

—You call me a pervert and you bring a lubricant with you. —Eric doesn't seem to hear the comment or ignore the accusation, as he takes off his jumper, revealing his arms with a few scrapes and cuts. 

—I use Vaseline for my wounds, but it also serves as a lubricant, you pervert.

Kyle decides to shut his mouth, since he's making his grave bigger. 

Eric walks to stand in front of Kyle and gives him a gentle push, throwing him onto the bed. He settles himself between Kyle's legs, gently touching the redhead's underwear and massaging his member over the top. Broflovski brings his hands to his face and covers it, imagining another situation, Eric takes the underwear and pushes it aside without removing it.

He takes the barely hardened member and begins a quick masturbation. The ginger man pursed his lips, being touched by someone else makes the sensations much stronger than when he did it by himself. Kyle jolts as he feels one of Eric's fingers rubbing his anal entrance. Wait… He didn't want this, he was supposed to be the active one, maybe he had once looked at two-man pornography out of curiosity, but he imagined himself as the active one. Doing a pretty boy, like Tweek for example. Hearing him moaning in that high-pitched voice, crying and sobbing with pleasure as he was penetrated. But he never thought of being the one on the receiving end.

—Stop it Cartman. —Begs the red-haired young man. Fear flashed in his eyes as he places his hands on the larger man's chest. Let's negotiate it.

He didn't want to be the one on the receiving end, he knows the formula to follow and he didn't want a dick up his ass.

—I'll give you a blowjob, what do you think? —Kyle pleads. Cartman's bored look tells him Cartman isn't willing to negotiate.

—I came here for your ass, if I wanted a blowjob, I'd ask poor Kenny. —Eric violently pulls the smaller boy's legs apart and unceremoniously shoves two Vaseline-filled fingers up the Jew's ass.

—Treat me more gently, you fucking asshole. —Broflovski digs his fingernails into Eric's arm and tries to relax as the other man adds a third finger to his anus.

—Of course, he does, princess. —Kyle sighs, shudders, trying to keep his muscles relaxed, and in his mind, he searches for a memory that will make him feel aroused. He opens his eyes, startled when the position changes and now his feet were on Cartman's chest Before you start saying it's embarrassing. —He continues, lining his cock up and rubbing it against Kyle's entrance—. This way you'll get used to it faster.

The red-haired man takes a quick breath, Eric has grown up a lot since primary schools. The hot piece of meat presses against his hole. Pushing slowly, he forced the flesh to open to accommodate him in his warm bowels. The rings of flesh begin to give way to the thick cock pushing its way into his ass. Kyle squeezes the sheets between his thin hands, gasps and sobs, his voice breaking, and he looks down at the joining of their bodies. Cartman's cock being devoured by his ass.

—Cartman, that's not going in. —Kyle puts his hand on Eric's arm. He lifts his face to look at his attacker, his eyes brimming with tears—. Stop it.

—You know if I wanted to, I could stick my whole arm through here and it wouldn't be a problem. Right? Just hold on a little longer. He's doing great. —Eric pulls back just as slowly, pulling completely out of the tight cavity. He takes a second to look at how dilated Kyle's hole is. Returning to the warm bowels he abandoned moments before. Broflovski cries, tears falling thickly down his cheeks. His lips tremble, as he bites down. —Should I kiss you… Do you like to be kissed when you're fucked? 

The brown man grabs Kyle's chin, squeezing his cheeks between his fingers. He forced his mouth open to push his tongue inside his mouth. He can feel Broflovski's voice vibrating in his mouth. His sobs and squeals muffled by his cavity. The smaller boy's hands tug at Cartman's hair in a vain attempt to push him away. Getting only Eric to grab him more violently. Pushing his hips against the red-haired boy's ass, causing his voice to break, causing him to shut up and open his eyes to stare at his attacker.

—What the fuck? —Kyle questions. Eric has stopped dead in his middle, he can feel the thick lump of flesh throbbing in his gut. 

—Show me how you masturbate. —Eric orders as he grabs Kyle by the ankles, pushing him backwards onto the bed. He spreads the young man's limbs apart, so he can watch as he shyly takes his cock. Kyle averts his gaze, running his hand down his bare stomach to his cock. Taking the barely rigid member in his hand he begins to move it.

Eric watches fascinated by the sight before him. Kyle's freckled face, a gorgeous reddish colour stretching from his forehead to his shoulders. Degrading until it melts completely through his whitish skin. His chest heaving erratically, taking in harsh breaths. 

—That's very deep. —The Jew barely manages to articulate. His limbs trembling as the warm, bubbling sensation of his coming orgasm pressed into his belly. Kyle takes his cock, stroking himself faster. Focusing his attention on pleasuring himself. Eric grabs the back of his knees, lifting his legs up to press them against his chest.

Kyle covers his mouth, trying futilely to silence the sounds emanating from it, the sobs and whimpers that must be heard all the way to the neighbour's house. Cartman's large hands clamp down on his legs, leaving his fingers scarred against the milky dermis. Painting the reddish marks of his hands on them. Broflovski can feel the movement, the burning in his lower parts as Eric moves inside him.

As his hips vibrate and his bones creak before the force the football player uses as he thrusts into him. Kyle closes his mouth tightly, gritting his teeth. His lips twitching, trembling as tears run thickly down his eyes. The red one bites the inside of his cheeks, clenches his toes as his body tensed all over, only to relax a minute later. White strands of sperm trickle down his belly, as he shudders in the remnants of his orgasm.

—Do you like it, Kyle, —Eric grabs him by the forearms, forcing him to sit on his lap—. Do you want me to fuck you harder?

The young Jew sighs denies as he digs his fingernails into the player's back. Curly hair tickles Eric's neck as he adjusts to continue his work. Grabbing Kyle's hips, sinking his fingers into the tender flesh, he lifts the smaller youngster to bounce him on his cock. Broflovski doesn't object, not strong enough to push Cartman off. He just drops, like dead weight. Resting his head on Eric's shoulder, he gasps and squeals in Eric's ear.

Cartman squeezes the juicy flesh between his fingers, lifting his hips to push the boy off. The sound of their skins colliding is far better than Eric has imagined for years. Kyle is sure that's not his voice because the way it sounds is something he's only heard before in porn videos. The heavy, swaying sound of their clamour, mixed with the wet slapping of their skins as they collide. The thick mist escaping his mouth as he stares, panting at the guy attacking him.

Eric opens his mouth, sinking his teeth into the whitish skin, sucking at the dermis intending to leave a deep purple mark. Kyle squeals, the ivory appendages tearing at his flesh as the chestnut continues to impale him, mercilessly. Surely sex is so much better than masturbation, so much better than spending all day fantasizing about it.

Broflovski's eyes fill with bright white lights, again. He can hear the blood rushing through his body, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like a pair of hammers. Eric pushes him back onto the mattress takes a fistful of reddish hair in his hand. Forcing the boy to lift his face, so he can look at him.

—Look at me. —Eric commands, tugging at Kyle's hair. Fixing his icy blue gaze on the young man. Broflovski's teary eyes look up at him, tears spilling over the corners of his eyes, slowly running down his reddened cheeks.

—Wait. —The other boy pleads. Cartman's insidious stare does nothing but embarrass him. To make him realize that all those years of dealing with sex addiction have gone down the drain. Because now after meeting him, he'll find it impossible to quit and go back to masturbating. Green irises quivering, he averts his gaze slightly only to receive a much harder tug.

—I said look at me. —Cartman insists. Kyle finally relents, slowly opening his eyes to meet Eric's dark gaze. The brown-haired man smiles, his eyelids narrowing as he fixes his gaze on the young Jew— Don't you like Kyle?

The other teen ponders, Cartman can tell he's flinching, how just looking at him has completely disarmed him. Or maybe it's because Eric finds himself pinned impossibly deep in Kyle's hole. He can feel the Jew twitch and tremble at his words, as he hesitates and doubts himself at the new sensation.

—No. —Kyle responds, his voice trembling.

—You don't like me fucking you? —Eric insists.

—No. —The Jew now says in a muffled voice. Eric steps back, tugs at the reddish hair, uncovering the pale skin of Broflovski's neck. Gnawing at the Adam's apple with his teeth, Kyle brings his hands to Cartman's shoulders. Sinking his nails into the flesh trying to push him down, he sobs and squeals as the footballer's wet tongue runs up his chin, down his cheek and into his ear.

—Don't you like the way I fuck? —Eric tries again. His voice has changed over the years from childish and squeaky to something calmer and deeper. If Cartman couldn't make a career as a footballer, as a politician, he'd definitely be good. More than he can ever remember being this close to Cartman, whispering in his ear. Saying things like that, it's a dangerous combination.

Kyle wraps his legs around Eric's waist, feeling the firm muscles under his limbs. Trying to lessen the force with which he's being penetrated by the sturdier boy. Cartman rests his free hand on the mattress, tugging on the Jew's lobe. Whispering his last question. Kyle denies, pursing his lips. Without letting out his voice.

—Don't you like being fucked? —Broflovski's lips quiver. He squeezes his eyelids shut, letting a couple of tears runs down his cheeks. Kyle sighs, finally parts his lips and speaks.

—Yes.

<https://twitter.com/CassidyAkira>


End file.
